An Ode to a Forgotten Hero

Ski poles are a beautiful thing. They are an extension of my body, with their sole purpose in life being to make me better, faster, and stronger. They respond to my every command, and never ask for anything in exchange. They are selfless agents of athletic perfection.

Over the years my ski poles have seen the world with me. They have been my constant companion through some of the most athletically painful experiences of my life. They were at my side every step of the way to the top of the tallest mountains. They have expressed my happiness, relief, frustration, and disappointment across every finish line. They have never let me down.

But today I have let you down poles. I fell today, in the Hyalite-Bozeman Creek Time Trial, and I have broken you. And while you may be joining my poles broken of past, I will never forget you and what you have done for me.

I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in the ski shop this past December. You were 180cm of perfection, flaunting your fluorescent green and white stature. Just holding you made me feel fast, made me feel worthy. You brought me to victory at World Junior Trials, and paved the way for a comeback this January when I thought my results would only continue their downward trend. You were my responsibility, where I could and would take care of you, and let no part of you get in harm’s way. I have failed you. You were so young and full of potential.

Today in your honor I raced the remaining 10 kilometers of the Time Trial with your broken pieces safely in my grasp, using the memory of our past victories to inspire me to continue with only my legs as propulsion. We did good, and finished only seconds behind the victors. You gave me the willpower to reach a new maximum heart-rate, and push through the schorching pain my legs felt throughout the race. You will never be forgotten. I will see you again someday, I am sure of it. You might be in the form of a clever ski wind chime, and I in the form of a desperate biathlete trying to sell ski pole wind chimes to raise money for World Junior Championships and new poles. Who knows.

Farewell my poles. Farewell.   

Busy Saturdays und so Weiter

The bouldering comp. Second Heat.
What's climbing without music?

Today was the Hyalite-Bozeman Creek Time Trial. I had a spectacular high-speed crash right off the bat, and broke my beautiful new poles. Only a skier knows the true anguish of breaking both poles in a race. After the time trial, I high-tailed it back to campus where I did a 4 hour DJ set for the MSU Bouldering Competition. It was a good distraction from breaking my beautiful new shiny poles. I guess from now on everything I earn will be going towards new poles. And Worlds.. dang this is an expensive sport. 

The race course today.
My watch can do some amazing things, like overlay my races
on 3D satellite images. 

Kicking Grass in the BoZone

Conditions are not exactly a skier's paradise, but at least for now we're all in it together.
Really makes you appreciate the perfect corduroy. Victory will be all the sweeter
after putting in the majority of my workouts on this 1k loop.

3 Options

quit

[kwit] verb, quit or quit·ted, quit·ting,adjective

1. to stop, cease, or discontinue

2. to release from obligation; free, clear, etc.

per·se·vere

[pur-suh-veer] verb, -vered,-ver·ing

1.to persist in anything undertaken; maintain a purpose inspite of difficulty, obstacles, or discouragement; continue steadfastly.

vic·to·ry

[vik-tuh-ree, vik-tree] noun, plural -ries.

1. a success or superior position achieved against any opponent, opposition, difficulty, etc.

Today was the Sacagawea Classic at Bohart Ranch, and to make a long story short it was chaos. 36 degrees with rain and snow dumping from the sky made for almost impossible waxing conditions, and within three minutes of the start I was soaked to the bone. My kick wax grabbed every piece of snow, rock, ice, and branch it touched and refused to let go. I was running on super glue. I stopped 13 times in the race to pound the crud from the bottom of my skis. It took me 78 minutes to race 18 kilometers.

2 minutes into the most bizarre race of my career, both physically
and mentally. Pouring rain and... awesome??

Many people dropped out, and a part of me didn’t blame them. I’ve always raced with the philosophy of “You can’t finish first if you don’t finish.”  Personally, if I dropped out of a race every time I was frustrated or exhausted with 10k to go, I would rarely make it to the finish line. Only one person can be first, and to the rest defeat is inevitable. To admit to this defeat before the End would only fill me with woulda-shoulda-coulda thoughts. I don’t like those thoughts.

However to me there’s a difference between pain and suffering. Yeah I totally got spanked by some weekend warriors, including girls, and yeah it took me twice as long as it usually would to ski a race like that, but after crossing the finish I felt like ‘wow, I can’t believe I got to the end of this’ and had to laugh about it. I wasn’t the only one skiing those conditions today, and there was a sort of camaraderie amongst all of us rain-drenched and bedraggled racers that got through it, and I felt proud to be among them. 

Useless Rubs

Today I am in West Yellowstone on a weekend adventure with my MSU ski buddies. The races here are qualifiers for Nordic Junior National Championships, but as I have already decided not  to attend Junior Nationals this year, the races are a way to get some fun, healthy competition in at high altitude.
The trails at West Yellowstone are amazing, and it’s great to get some quality skiing in on ski-specific trails with no dog poop or rocks. I seem to have ironed out all the crinkles since last time I was here for the Thanksgiving SuperTour, mostly because my Nordic and Biathlon priorities for this season are now straight.

No matter where you go in the nation, it's nice knowing that
there will be great competition and friendly skiers

My good friend Neil was my wax tech for the sprints, and used an amazingly fast wax that was later found to be in the BSF Team’s wax arsenal as well, albeit in the “Useless Rubs” drawer. It was their loss, not ours, because that useless rub qualified me fourth, then led me to a victory in the quarter-finals and semi-finals, placing me (for the first time in a long time) into the A Final.

The Semi-finals. Even though we were at 6700 feet,
I was able to get the skiing to click. It felt earned

I felt terrible after the prelim, mostly because of the altitude. My body started to shut down and my lungs were burning. After about an hour I got over it, and started feeling like a sprinter again. I’m not going to give a “there I was..” play-by-play of the final, but I will tell you it was quick. It took us less than two minutes to round the course, and in the end I took second in an epic sprint-off to Bridger Tyler, who has been skiing super strong this season as well as for the past five seasons. It was a good day for my friends as well, with many placing in the A and B Finals.

The A Final.

Being a relatively unknown skier in the Intermountain Ski Region, it was a little humbling to be recognized at the awards banquet and look out over the crowd and see an entirely new Nordic community, as closely knit as the Alaskan contingent. Hopefully I can bridge the gap between visitor and comrade.


On a side note, I have to say that the Intermountain Ski Region is a very deep field of talented skiers, all the way down to the J6 category. I had to smile when I saw J5s collapsing at the end of the race, dead tired from skiing so hard. It’s hard not to find inspiration in their accomplishment at such a young age.

Last Days in the AKs

There are some sports in which I am completely content at not being good at. Golf, for instance. And Cricket. Luckily, the usual training and conditioning for skiing keeps some other options open. Nordic skiers tend to be good all-around athletes, with many doing well in sports like cycling, mountain running, and so on. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I've always wanted to try speed skating. I've always been amazed at the mixture of strength and efficiency that long track skaters possess. The opportunity arose on my last day in Anchorage before heading back to college to enter a speed skate/nordic ski duathlon. Armed with just a days worth of speed skating experience and some intense Youtube research of Sven Kramer, I said what the heck and rented some skates. The race started with 4 kilometers (10 laps of the Anchorage outdoor long-track oval) of skating, and then transitioned much like a pursuit ski race to 4 kilometers of skiing. As in all Anchorage athletic events, there was a wide variety of skill levels entered, from Olympic hopeful speed skaters to the hearty weekend warrior. It was cold and snowing (which was the norm in Alaska all month) and I had started to regret spandex-ing out for the race.

Myself (left) and eventual winner Adam Verrier
duking it out on the long track.

What I found on the skating portion of the race was that speed skating hurts. By the fifth lap I was aching in my quads, calves, lower back, upper back, and shoulders. It was a killer workout. I entered the transition in an exhausted daze, and lost precious time changing from my skates to my ski boots. I could’ve done the race on the Nordic clip-in skates, but I really wanted to get the full speed skate experience. 

The transition. It took every muscle in my body
to not just melt into that chair and die of exhaustion

I can hardly remember the ski portion of the race, not because it went by so fast, but because I was so tired and disoriented on my skis after so long on skates. I felt like I was skiing for the first time in my life, and almost crashed when I tried to step-turn a corner as if I was still on skates. It’s safe to say I wasn’t thinking about pacing myself at all.

Nearing the finish for 3rd place. It seems no matter the competition
I enter, there is no shortage of volunteers to help put it on. I think
that says a lot about Alaska's outdoor athletics.

Overall it was a great way to close out an amazing winter break. Alaska has definitely received the most skiable snowfall in the nation this winter, and never in my life have I seen so much snow. It’ll be hard to leave this for college, but such is the life of a student-athlete. 

Here are some other pictures of my highlight week in Alaska

Not only was Glen Alps cold when I went for a ski (-14 degrees),
but the amount of snow was crazy. Drifts were covering trees,
like this one, which is well above my head. I'm not short either.

Glen Alps. The most beautiful nordic skiing in the country

Even the commute to Kincaid is beautiful. Can you tell
I love Alaska?

No shoratge of snow

Training Solo, Once Again

The Year in Review

Starting 365 days ago, I was driving away from a successful and eventful 2010 biathlon trials in Jericho, VT to meet up with the Alaska Winter Stars in Rumford, ME for Cross-Country U.S. Nationals. It was at these nationals, on the famed 3k loop, that I realized for the first time that my dreams of Nordic stardom were no longer materializing into anything worthy of recognition. I felt like I had done everything right that season with training, and I had to become realistic about my future in the sport. When a frustrating season becomes two frustrating seasons and then three, I have to wonder where my niche is again.  

U.S. Nationals.
I couldn't blame all my problems on the conditions

For a while after U.S. Nationals I felt like Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite, always living in my past successes as a standout J2. If only I could replicate those results…. But I couldn’t, at least not in Nordic.
This past year was my first dive into the international biathlon scene, and in February I left for the Czech Republic for World Junior Biathlon Championships. Whilst abroad, I realized how amazing biathlon really is. The team became a second family to me, with a perfect mixture of focus, motivation, humility, athleticism, and humor. I kind of felt that this sport, and this group of people, was my kind of “fresh start” in my athletic and personal life, and it gave me a reason to continue in the sport. I also realized that if I were to improve even in the slightest in biathlon, I could find myself much higher in the standings.

Biathlon World Juniors.
My taste of satisfactory for 2011

Post-season races came and went, and I travelled to Alaska State Championships in Fairbanks and Junior National Championships in Minneapolis, and not racing anywhere near my goals in either. It was hard emotionally for me, to train so hard and have nothing to prove for it, and I took this season as a sign that something needed to change. In an effort to prove to myself that I can push my body to the limit, I signed up for the SKAN 24 hour ski race at Kincaid Park. I got second, only one lap behind the leader due to oversleeping a cat-nap at around 5 am, but I was able to clock 165 kilometers on some of the most challenging courses I have ever skied. I am no longer afraid of death because after that race I realized that nothing could hurt as much as that did.

2 a.m. at the SKAN 24.
100k down and starting to feel the hurt.

Springtime hosted some of the best crust skiing Alaska has ever seen, and my buddies and I went on an EPIC crust ski to Portage Glacier before skiing over the Whittier Tunnel to overlook Prince William Sound. Once the crust got soft around midday, we all piled into the car and hit up half-day Alyeska. That day of skiing has to be one of my favorite days of the year.

Alaskan crust skiing. Perfect in every way.

Once the springtime crust had melted away and summer training was in full swing, I was still undecided about where I was to attend college, and I knew that it was a long shot to be on a college ski team. I also knew that I wanted, above everything, to not give up on what has governed a good majority of my time for the past few years. I decided to train smarter, eat better, and stay focused over the summer on doing everything in my power to be the best skier I could be. I picked up mountain running, and raced in the majority of the Mountain Running Grand Prix races. I made it to the shooting range whenever I could, and got shooting advice from Olympians Tracy and Lanny Barnes. I can say without a doubt that I have no regrets as to my summer training.

Summer Training 2011.
Incredibly Productive and Fun

Summer turned into Fall, and before I knew it I was driving down the Alaska Highway to Montana State University. All I knew about the athletics at MSU was two of my fellow World Junior biathlon teammates were also going to school there, and we’d be able to shoot at Bohart Ranch’s biathlon range to stay on top of our biathlon training. Other than that, I walked in blindly to the MSU ski team situation. My schedule didn’t work around the team’s training times, and I found myself training alone. For the better part of 4 months, I was my own coach, making my own workout schedules, training as hard as I could, alone, to try and prove my worthiness to be on the MSU ski team. The amount of time and focus I put in over the fall was emotionally taxing, and I know that I will never be able to put forth that kind of effort again, even if I wanted to, if I am faced with those same training circumstances next year. I had my ups and downs with pre and early season performance, but when it mattered most (West Yellowstone and Bozeman SuperTours) I couldn’t find the speed, let alone the final gear at such altitude, to merit any conversation as to my hopes as a walk-on. My best was once again not good enough.

With training opportunities like this at MSU, it's nobody's fault
but mine for not making the team.

While attending my first semester of college the only continued success I had was in biathlon. I, like every biathlete in the world, hate it when people say that biathlon is for ‘people that can’t make it in nordic’ and a ‘lesser sport’ than cross-country. To some it seemed that I did well in biathlon because the field is weaker (which, I might add, is false). I felt my dignity in the Nordic community was in question, and my only credibility was in a sport not taken seriously by my Nordic peers. The stress was crushing at times, but I started to see clearly again once I got a change of scenery and came home for the winter holidays.

Giving MSU Skiing the ol' college try

In the days leading up to Trials, I was in heaven. Home was as if I had never left it. The skiing was perfect, my races at low altitude were going a little better, and I had local coaches and family in my corner, a stark contrast to college life.

Trials - December 2011. Not miles ahead the competition,
but still on top

World Junior Trials went really well. Of course it would’ve been cool to win every race at trials, but I’m happy to share the podium knowing that the depth of the Youth Men’s team this year is unmatched with years past. By the time the final race came around at Trials, everyone was exhausted from 3 days of racing in a row, and it was while I was suffering on my final lap that I remembered what kept me going. It was that thought of pushing myself as hard as I could to prove to myself as well as others that I can and will give 200% for a team I love.

And with that, and 600 or so hours of training in 2011, I go into 2012. I enter the year lighter, both physically and emotionally, and look forward to continuing my long path towards my potential.